


F.A.Hc. - Featuring Awesome Headcanons

by maxride003



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: FAHC, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5045848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxride003/pseuds/maxride003
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of stories based on the amazing, and rather amusing, headcanons I've seen around Tumblr. Each chapter is dedicated to a different headcanon concerning the Fake AH Crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tales from the LSPD

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I must not have enough WIP fics right now, because I'm starting this one up. But there are just so many amazing headcanons on Tumblr that I couldn't just leave them unwritten. Therefore, I've started this! I don't know how frequently I'll be updating, since I know some of these headcanons could evolve into lengthy stories, but I'll try my best.
> 
> This first chapter is based on a headcanon by Tumblr user anarchetypal. And I'm sorry if my translations aren't fully correct; I just plugged sentences into Google Translate, because I only speak minimal Spanish and sometimes even have trouble with English. But I hope you enjoy.

**Notes (Ryan Haywood):**

-          Haywood spent the first ten minutes of his interrogation heavily criticizing the “poor upkeep” of an orchid on one of the detective’s desks.

-          Spoke French, insisted on not knowing English; switched to Russian after a French translator was brought in and insisted (in Russian) to not knowing French or English.

-          Made Detective Demarais cry ~~twice~~ three separate times

-          Bailed out by Jack Pattillo

 

“Really, don’t you care about that plant’s well-being?” Ryan insisted, gesturing to the door, and past it to the bullpen outside. His movement was drawn up short by the cuffs connected to the heavy metal table, but everyone knew what he meant. At least he hoped so, since this had been the topic of conversation for the past few minutes.

“We’re not here to discuss plant care, Haywood,” Burnie sighed, and Ryan pushed on before the frazzled detective could continue.

“Well we should be!” Ryan exclaimed, emphasizing his point by slamming his hand against the table and surprising Detective Demarais with the force of his words. Ryan suppressed a smile at the reaction, frowning instead. Frowning or scowling was far more intimidating, and Ryan liked freaking out the detectives. Demarais just made it so easy. “Joel is killing that poor orchid. He’s as much of a murderer as I, allegedly, am.”

“Are you comparing a sickly flower to five dead people?” Burnie asked dryly. “And what do you mean _allegedly_? We all know you’re a murderer!”

Ryan shrugged, sitting back in the uncomfortable metal chair and allowing himself a smirk. “That has never been proven in a court of law. So I’m still innocent until it is proven, right?” he said, and Burnie frowned. “Besides, that poor orchid can’t defend itself. It’s just sitting there, forced to wither away from improper care, with no way of helping itself. I think that’s worse than killing a person. People can at least move away from danger. That plant can’t.”

Burnie grumbled something unintelligible, running a hand through his short hair. “I don’t even want to get into all the ways you’re wrong. We’ll tell Detective Heyman to water his fucking plant if you shut up about it,” he sighed. Ryan just grinned at him, pleased that he was getting under their skin so easily. Though, honestly, Joel’s plant really did need some help.

Sighing heavily, Burnie threw a thick folder on the table with Ryan’s name written on the side. Ryan was surprised they hadn’t brought in the file boxes again. They seemed to like showing off the information they had thrown together. Burnie dropped into the chair across from Ryan.

“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk,” Burnie said, flipping open his folder. “What were you doing near the crime scene?”

Ryan blinked, shrugged, and looked at Burnie as innocently and apologetically as he could manage. “Je suis désolé, mais je ne sais pas l'anglais,” he said in perfect French. _I’m sorry, but I don’t know English_. “Pouvez-vous parler français, cher détective?” _Can you speak French, dear detective?_

Burnie scowled and jabbed a finger at Ryan. “Cut the crap,  Haywood,” he snapped. “We all know you speak perfect English. Just answer my question. What were you doing near the crime scene?”

“Ne voudriez-vous savoir?” Ryan said with a smirk. _Wouldn’t you like to know?_ “Vous faites de cette façon trop facile, Burnie. Je pensais que vous auriez commencé à élargir vos connaissances de la langue maintenant.” _You make this way too easy, Burnie. I thought you would have started expanding your language knowledge by now._

“You know you are being charged with murder, Haywood,” Burnie pressed on. “We don’t have time for your games.”

Ryan shrugged again. “Désolé, je ne parle pas l'anglais. Je ne peux pas vous aider,” he said as sincerely and apologetically as he could manage. _Sorry, but I don’t speak English. I can’t help you._ He was tempted to actually answer Burnie’s question when there was no way that Burnie could understand him, but he knew the interrogation was being recorded (he could see the camera on the wall), and they’d get someone to translate the footage, and he didn’t want to admit to anything at all.

Burnie stared at him across the table and then got up and left with a muttered, “Watch him for a little while, Demarais.” He closed the door forcefully behind him and Ryan chuckled, giving Demarais a smile that many people had described as really fucking creepy. Demarais shifted uncomfortably and stared at the door longingly.

“So how’s it going, detective?” Ryan asked, switching back to English so Demarais could actually understand him. From what he’d noticed, the kid didn’t even speak Spanish. Even Burnie had learned how to speak Spanish enough to understand half of what Ryan said by now. But this scrawny little detective hadn’t seemed to have figured it out yet.

Demarais twisted his uniform shirt between his hands and bit his lip. “Fine…” he said slowly, looking at Ryan warily.

Chuckling mockingly, Ryan leaned forward on his elbows, the handcuff chain rattling against the metal table. “What? Do I scare you?” he asked, false sympathy dripping from his words. “Don’t see why. You’d have a full thirty seconds to scram if you piss me off. That’s more than enough time to save your ass.”

“Thirty seconds?” Demarais repeated, looking down at the chain attaching Ryan to the table. “I don’t believe you.”

Ryan wished there was enough slack in the cuffs for him to prop his chin up in his hand, but instead, he settled with steepling his fingers. “Well, I might be exaggerating a little bit,” Ryan allowed. Demarais relaxed, nodding knowingly. “I think it’d really be closer to twenty seconds. And I mean, it really wouldn’t be that difficult. You all don’t improve these restraints; they’re a little dented and damaged. A strong force would break it. That’s a few seconds tearing apart your table. And then your time would be reduced if I wanted to go over the table instead of around. Slick metal surface like this, it’d be real easy to slide across. And your back is to a wall. I could probably have you trapped and on your way to unconsciousness using the handcuff chain before anyone even comes in to help.”

All of the color drained from Demarais’s face as his eyes widened in terror. He bit his lip and inched toward the door, refusing to turn his back on Ryan. “I…I’ll be back,” he stammered, scrambling for the doorknob behind his back. Ryan watched silently as he yanked the door open, hit himself in the ankles with it, and slipped out quickly. Ryan smirked. It was just so easy to freak that kid out.

It was more than an hour later when Burnie finally returned. Ryan suspected he must have either been sitting behind the glass watching Ryan nap, or he’d gone out for food or something, since the translator that followed him in worked with the department. She was always around, and had come in to speak to him last time he’d tried this.

“Bonjour, Ryan,” the translator said with the strained patience that an adult gave to a troublesome child. Ryan didn’t answer, mentally cycling through his known languages as he tried to remember the ones he’d been through last time.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Burnie sighed, leaning against the wall as the translator took the seat across from Ryan. “Why were you at the crime scene?”

“ Где Демарес? Я его обидел?” Ryan asked in Russian, mocking concern in his tone. _Where’s Demarais? Did I upset him?_ Burnie scowled and the translator blinked at Ryan.

“Well that’s not French,” she commented. “That’s…what, Russian?”

“Dammit, Haywood!” Burnie barked. “Everyone in this damn building knows that you can communicate with us perfectly fine! You talked to Demarais well enough to make the damn kid cry! You don’t only speak Russian!”

“Вообще-то, только на нём. И он действительно заплакал? Ничего себе,” Ryan answered. _Yes, I do, actually. And I made him cry? Amazing._ He hadn’t expected that much of a reaction out of Demarais, and he was kind of sad that the detective had left beforehand.

“I’m sorry, Detective Burns, but I can’t help you with this. I don’t know Russian,” the translator sighed, shaking her head.

Burnie growled to himself. “Of fucking course,” he muttered. “I hate everyone in your crew, Haywood. You’re all assholes.”

Before the interrogation could continue, the door opened and Joel stuck his head inside, an amused smirk on his face, though he was resolutely ignoring Ryan. “Hey, Burnie. His lawyer’s here,” he stated.

“Lawyer? You mean Pattillo? He’s not a fucking lawyer!” Burnie raged, throwing his hands up.

“I mean, by all accounts, he is. He’s licensed and everything. I know you’ve checked it many times over. So, technically…Pattillo is Haywood’s lawyer. Nothing we can do about it,” Joel said with a shrug. Ryan grinned, pleased that Gavin’s work had held up to so much scrutiny. Especially knowing that they _knew_ Jack wasn’t in any way a lawyer, and they still couldn’t prove it.

The translator sighed and shook her head, slipping out of the room past Joel. Burnie didn’t even grace the other detective’s comment with an answer. He just stormed out after her, and Ryan called after him, “Great talk, Burnie! See you later!” And then he sat back to wait for Jack to talk him out of the station.

 

**Notes (Ray Narvaez Jr):**

-          Upon being brought in with Haywood: Both men spoke at length to one another in ~~three~~ ~~four~~ five? different languages; Narvaez complied with translating for Haywood, who insisted he didn’t know English ~~again~~.

-          [Addendum: Upon review of interrogation tapes, it has been discovered that Narvaez was translating heavily and intentionally incorrectly.]

-          Fell asleep during interrogation on ~~2/17/12~~ ~~8/03/13~~ ~~10/23/13~~ ~~4/29/14~~ ~~6/12/14~~ _Somebody get this kid a fucking Red Bull_

-          Bailed out by Jack Pattillo

 

“¿Podemos culpar a Gavin para esto?” Ray asked in Spanish, sprawling in the metal chair as comfortably as he could manage. _Can we blame Gavin for this?_

“Il serait logique. Il est celui qui a volé au loin sans nous,” Ryan answered in French. _It would make sense. He’s the one who flew off without us_. Ray could see Burnie massaging his temples where he leaned against the wall, but Ray was more interested in the conversation than the detective. This had become a game of sorts – how long could they go before Burnie snapped.

“Не знаю, как он мог про нас забыть. Ему же только и нужно было, что нас забрать!” Ray sighed in Russian. _I don’t know how he forgot about us. Literally his only job was to pick us up._ Ryan shrugged and grinned.

“Ich weiß es nicht. Aber wie viel Sie wollen Wette Geoff kaut ihn für sie gerade jetzt?” he answered in German. _I don’t know. But how much you wanna bet Geoff is chewing him out for it right now?_

Ray laughed. “Geoff? Co Jack? On je ten, kdo je vlastně dělat něco o tom,” he said, switching to Czech. _Geoff? What about Jack? He’s the one who’s actually gonna do something about it._ Ryan nodded, allowing the point.

They had a few more languages the two of them could cycle through (and a couple more that only Ryan knew), but Burnie seemed to be done with the conversation by now. He stepped forward and slammed a hand down on the table, likely trying to startle the two, but both of them just looked around at the detective. Ryan arched an eyebrow, glancing down at his hand. They worked around guns all the time, which were far louder than any sound Burnie could make, and they’d gotten used to that. The intimidation tactic was kind of weak, really.

“Enough!” Burnie shouted in annoyance, collapsing in the chair across the table from them. “I need you both speaking _English_ and answering my questions!”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Ray asked, returning to English and smiling amiably.

Ryan shrugged and shook his head. “Es tut uns leid. Ich habe vergessen, wie,” he said in German. _Sorry. I forgot how._ Ray laughed and Burnie sighed heavily.

“I know you speak English, Haywood. We’re not having this argument again,” he grumbled.

“Ich weiß nicht, was du redest,” Ryan insisted. _I don’t know what you’re talking about_.

Grinning, Ray said, “It must be some kind of selective amnesia. He did get hit in the head pretty hard by your guys…” Ryan nodded, making a show of wincing and reaching up to rub at his head with his cuffed hands. They both were cuffed with their hands in front of them, and they would have been tethered to the table if it wasn’t both of them in the same room. The LSPD just didn’t have the resources to handle the Fake AH Crew.

“Of course,” Burnie sighed. “Well, can you translate for him, then? I’m not bringing someone else in again. Our translator is…a little busy.”

“Sie ist wahrscheinlich versuchen, mehr Sprachen zu lernen,” Ryan commented. _She’s probably trying to learn more languages._

“Nun, es ist schwer für alle, die mit Ihrem ausgeflippt Fähigkeit, hochzuziehen Google Translate in Ihrem Kopf zu halten,” Ray pointed out. _Well it’s hard for anyone to keep up with your freaky ability to pull up Google Translate in your head._ Ryan shrugged one shoulder and nodded.

“Ich bin Sonder,” he said cheerfully. _I’m special._

“Nun, ich wusste schon, dass,” Ray scoffed with a teasing smirk. _Well I already knew that_. Ryan scowled and smacked Ray’s arm with his cuffed hands, making Ray laugh.

“Seriously, guys?” Burnie said. “Knock it off or I’m chaining you to the fucking table. So are you going to cooperate or not, Narvaez?”

“Yeah, Ryan. Knock it off,” Ray quipped, making Ryan roll his eyes. “Sure. Why not. I’ll translate for you.”

Burnie let out a heavy breath and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, nodding. “Great. Now we’re getting somewhere. Fucking finally,” he griped. “Now, why did you blow up the gas station?”

“Ich wette, er wird keine fünf Minuten wie diese dauern,” Ryan stated. _I’m betting he won’t last five minutes like this_. Ray had to agree with him. Burnie’s patience was already worn thin, and Ray prided himself on being able to push a person’s buttons.

“He says we didn’t do it,” Ray answered.

“We caught you two outside the gas station, with automatic rifles and grenades. I highly doubt you’re innocent,” Burnie scoffed.

“Ich meine, wir haben etwas anderes zu tun,” Ryan said, and Ray let out a surprised laugh. _I mean, we could have been doing something else_. Ray had no idea what else they could have been doing, and he tried to figure it out.

“Wow, Ryan. How rude,” Ray said, grinning at Burnie. “I don’t think you want me to translate that.” He yawned, covering it up with his hands, and then rubbed at his eyes. This interrogation was getting kind of boring. He leaned his head back against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

“Narvaez, are you paying attention?” Burnie demanded.

“Yup. You have my full attention,” Ray said without opening his eyes.

“Du wirst einschlafen und lass mich in Ruhe wieder mit ihm, nicht wahr,” Ryan said dryly. _You’re gonna fall asleep and leave me alone with him again, aren’t you._ Ray didn’t answer, since he was starting to doze off, and the last thing he heard was Ryan switching to English to say, “You guys got anymore Red Bulls?”

Ray was shaken awake an unknown time later by Ryan. He blinked his eyes open blearily and looked around the room. They were alone and no longer cuffed, and Ryan grabbed his arm, trying to pull him to his feet.

“I have no idea how you manage to fall asleep every single time,” Ryan said as Ray pushed himself upright, shoving his glasses up his face so he could rub the sleepiness from his eyes. “Or stay asleep through Burnie yelling.”

“Is Jack here?” Ray asked, trying to suppress a yawn behind one hand.

“Yeah. We’re good to go. Come on, let’s leave before Burnie finds a reason to keep us here,” Ryan said, and Ray trailed along behind him. At least these interrogation sessions gave him a good chance to catch up on sleep, even if it didn’t accomplish much more than that.

 

**Notes (Michael Jones):**

-          Upon being brought in with Gavin Free: Both men bickered with one another at length despite multiple attempts at questioning.

-          Jones insisted on continuing to shout through the walls at Free upon separation.

-          Blew up his holding cell on ~~3/19/13~~ ~~9/26/13~~ ~~5/02/14~~ _Who the hell is searching this guy?_

-          Bailed out by Jack Pattillo

 

“This is all your fucking fault!” Michael shouted, jabbing a finger at Gavin, and his hands were pulled up short by the cuffs. He’d been tethered to the metal table as soon as they’d been brought into the room, since he’d knocked Gavin around a bit in the back of the cop car, and Burnie had declared that they were not dealing with anyone getting injured.

Gavin let out one of his squawking protests and pouted. “No it’s not!” he complained and Michael scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“You’re the idiot who thought it would be a good fucking idea to land the fucking plane on a _god damn SWAT car_ ,” Michael roared and Gavin grimaced.

“Look, guys, can we just –” Burnie tried, but Michael didn’t care much about what he had to say, and Gavin interrupted him quickly, apparently not even listening.

“You know, I _did_ do it. The van just moved and messed it up,” Gavin insisted.

“The van was already fucking moving! That’s what cars are doing when they’re driving!” Michael said, trying and failing to throw his hands up as the cuffs dug into his wrists. “You saw the damn thing! It was moving the entire fucking time!”

Burnie hit his fist on the table and Gavin jumped, squeaking, and nearly toppled out of his chair. Michael laughed scathingly. “Can we wait to have this conversation until later? Right now, I’d like to ask…”

“Why the fuck did you even try, anyway?” Michael interrupted, turning away from Burnie and frowning at Gavin. “You can’t even fly in a straight fucking line! How could you have even pulled this shit off?”

“It was going to be top, Michael,” Gavin whined, drawing out Michael’s name in that weird, childish way of his that was sometimes amusing but more often annoying.

“What were you thinking was going to happen? You can’t come to a complete stop on something that small! And you were going the wrong fucking direction!” Michael pointed out. “Of course you were going to crash!”

Burnie sighed heavily and got up, cracking the door open and gesturing to someone outside. Gavin continued to complain, whining, “You don’t know that, Michael! I could have done it! Really!”

Burnie stepped back into the room with Joel following behind him, and the second detective was covering a smile with one hand. “Can you take Free to the next room over? I’m tired of listening to this,” Burnie sighed. Joel nodded, trying to wipe the grin from his face as he pulled Gavin to his feet.

“You could never do it. You’re full of shit, Gavin,” Michael insisted, trying to move after him despite the handcuffs keeping him at the table. Gavin babbled out a response that barely even sounded like words, and then he was pulled from the room and the door was closed firmly.

“Finally,” Burnie griped, sitting down again across from Michael and rubbing at his forehead. “Now, can you tell me what in the world you were doing out there?”

“Nothing. It was _Gavin’s fucking fault!_ ” Michael roared, knowing that Gavin could hear him. The interrogation rooms in the LSPD were right next door to each other, and they didn’t exactly have the thickest of walls.

“I didn’t do anything! You lot told me to! You said it would be cool!” Gavin answered, his voice muffled slightly by the wall, but Michael could still make out what he was saying clearly enough.

“Okay, then it was Ryan’s fault!” Michael declared, and Burnie fell forward and thumped his head against the table. “You know not to listen to Ryan! The asshole is fucking insane! He just wanted to watch you fuck up!”

“But you said it would be top, too, Michael!” Gavin screamed back.

“Yeah, but not when I was in the fucking plane with you! I meant later! When you were alone and would only fuck yourself over!” Michael said.

“Both of you guys are at fault. In fact, all of your crew is,” Burnie said, trying again, but he was once more interrupted.

“Ray would agree with me!” Gavin yelled.

“Well Ray’s not here right now, is he? He was the lucky asshole who got paired with Jack! At least Jack can fucking stay in the goddamn air!” Michael shot back. “I’m fucking leaving you with Ryan next time!”

“But Michael… Team Nice Dynamite!” Gavin answered, and Michael scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“That’s not an actual argument, Gavin!” he hollered.

“You know what? Screw this,” Burnie shouted over the two of them, getting up and grabbing his keys from his pocket. He unlocked Michael’s cuffs and grabbed his arm, hauling him out of his seat. Michael grinned, allowing Burnie to pull him out of the interrogation room. It was just so easy to get under Burnie’s skin (and Gavin’s), and Michael had them wrapped around his little finger. It was so simple to get out of the silly interrogation just by yelling at someone.

Michael was thrown into a holding cell and Burnie slammed the door closed, locking it with a scowl. “Congratulations, Jones. You get your own room to cool down in. Make yourself comfortable,” he grumbled, tucking the keys back in his pocket and leaving Michael alone.

Michael leaned on the bars of the cell, waiting until he couldn’t hear Burnie anymore, and then he chuckled quietly to himself. Being able to manipulate the cops so well made him feel rather powerful. It was awesome.

Moving quickly, Michael knelt down and removed his shoe, pulling out a tiny Ziploc bag containing an explosive compound that looked a lot like silly putty. A tiny transmitter sat in the middle, its antenna a little bent from being stepped on repeatedly. He slipped his shoe back on and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a pen.

He had been a little worried originally when he was being searched. They’d found the pen, and Michael had been afraid that they would activate the transmitter within and blow his toes off, but the cops had decided it was harmless and put it back without doing much with it. Michael’s escape plan, and his toes, appreciated their lack of caution.

Sticking his tongue between his teeth in concentration, Michael removed the explosive and stuck it on the metal door, near the latch. He bent the antenna back so that it stuck out straight and then backed up to the back wall of the holding cell. Michael twisted the pen so that the two halves were put together tightly, and then he clicked the button.

A small explosion reverberated through the back of the station and Michael laughed, shoving his pen back in his pocket and shoving the holding cell door open. He rushed out of the building before anyone came to check out the noise, leaving Gavin there. But Jack would be around soon enough to help out, and Michael didn’t think the extended time with Joel would kill Gavin.

Besides, it might teach Gavin not to do dumbass stunts while they were being chased by the cops.

 

**Notes (Geoffrey Ramsey):**

-          Asked for a beer

-          Somehow convinced Detective Demarais to bring him a beer

-          [Addendum: _He’s really persuasive you guys, okay, I’m sorry._ ]

-          Not bailed out by Jack Pattillo; inspection of phone transcripts indicate Pattillo berated Ramsey for “getting brought in on a fucking public indecency charge of all things,” and said he could “stay in there for a few days. Yes, I _can_ do that. I can. I just did. I just grounded you.”

 

Geoff sprawled on the ground in the drunk tank, staring up at the ceiling. He twisted the strings of the too-large sweatpants between his fingers absently, and the concrete floor was cool against his bare back, but it was helping him sober up. Honestly, Geoff didn’t think he’d been that drunk in the first place. Jack probably would have made him back off two drinks before the cops had picked him up, but Geoff thought he was functioning perfectly fine, thank you very much.

Nevertheless, Geoff’s vision was a little fuzzy on the edges, and his head felt kind of light and like it was stuffed full of cotton. A headache was starting to grow as the alcohol left his system, and Geoff decided he needed another drink to offset it.

Groaning, Geoff shoved himself up, curling his bare toes on the concrete and padding, a little unsteadily, to the bars of the cell. “Hey,” he called, his voice a little thready and croaky at first, until he cleared his throat and tried again. “Hey, anyone out there? Hello?”

Detective Demarais moved, a little hesitantly, up to the cell but safely out of Geoff’s reach. From what Geoff had heard, Demarais had had an unfortunate encounter with an angry Ryan, and he had wound up in the hospital with a concussion afterwards. He was now very careful around any of the crew.

“What do you want?” Demarais asked and Geoff gave the detective the most charming smile he could. He wasn’t sure if it lost its effect if he was only wearing a pair of borrowed sweatpants, as opposed to his suit, but he tried anyway.

“Hey. I’m thirsty, and I’ve got a fucking headache growing that’s gonna split my skull. Any chance I could get some beer to counteract it?” Geoff asked.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re supposed to be sobering up,” Demarais pointed out.

Geoff shrugged, leaning on the bars, partially to convey a sense of nonchalance and partly to make sure he was actually standing stationary and it was the room that was moving around him. “Oh, come on, Demarais. A single beer won’t hurt. It wouldn’t even be enough to make a scrawny kid like you get a buzz. It’ll just make my headache better. Help me out here, Demarais. You don’t want Burnie coming to see what’s wrong in here, do you? Thinking that you can’t handle one guy who doesn’t even own the clothes he’s wearing? That’d be pathetic,” Geoff said. “Just grab me a beer and I’ll be good. Won’t bother you again. You’ll have a model prisoner. Deal?”

Demarais shifted his weight from one foot to the other, frowning and glancing down the hall toward the main part of the precinct. “Well…Burnie does keep a few beers hidden in his desk…” he said slowly and Geoff smiled.

“How convenient,” he said cheerfully, even though he knew full well that Burnie kept some alcohol on-hand. Geoff had broken into the precinct to steal it one day when he was bored, with Gavin’s help. “I’m sure he wouldn’t notice one bottle missing.”

Finally, Demarais sighed and nodded. “Fine. We just won’t tell Burnie about it,” he decided, and it almost sounded like he was talking to himself as he turned and went back the way he’d come. Geoff chuckled to himself and sat down on the floor, rubbing at the headache growing behind his eyes.

It didn’t take long for Demarais to return, and he had a beer bottle open in one hand. He twisted it in his hand, and then sighed and passed it through the bars. Geoff took the beer happily, taking a quick drink. Demarais turned and hurried away without a word, leaving Geoff alone in the cell with his bottle of commandeered alcohol.

Geoff ended up falling asleep at some point and he woke up when someone banged on the bars of the cell, startling Geoff into sitting up and blinking blearily. Burnie stood on the other side of the cell and he pointed at the empty bottle sitting by Geoff’s hand.

“What the hell is that?” he demanded and Geoff picked up the bottle, showing it off to Burnie.

“It’s a bottle. What else would it be?” he said and Burnie scowled.

“I can see that,” he snapped. “How did you get that? That’s one of _my_ beers. And it’s not like you can hide it anywhere!” The detective gestured at Geoff, indicating his minimal clothing. Geoff just grinned at him, reveling in the detective’s growing irritation.

“I’m just that awesome. Hey, so I’m sober and shit now, so can I go home?” Geoff asked, dropping the bottle and pushing himself to his feet. He brushed off his arms and his back, since it felt like he was covered in dirt after sleeping on the floor

Burnie stared at him incredulously for a moment and then shook his head. “Um, no?” he said, looking at Geoff like the crime boss was stupid. “I’m not letting you go just because you’re sober, Ramsey. I was just waiting for you to sober up so you’d be easier to deal with.”

“Then if you’re keeping me here, can I have my phone call?” Geoff asked. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but he felt like Jack should have been around to bail him out by now. Jack was normally pretty good about stuff like that.

Burnie sighed heavily and dug out his keys, unlocking the cell door. “Fine. But make it quick, okay?” he said. “And hand me the stupid beer bottle.”

Geoff scooped up the bottle and tossed it to Burnie, leaving the cell cheerfully as Burnie fumbled and nearly dropped the empty bottle. Burnie scowled but didn’t say a word as he led Geoff to the phones, standing close by and watching Geoff carefully as Geoff dialed Jack’s number.

The phone rang a few times before Jack picked up, and his greeting was a very curt, “No.” Geoff blinked and looked down at the phone, surprised.

“Jack?” he said in confusion. “Everything okay there?”

“No. I’m not bailing your ass out of jail,” Jack said firmly. “Not this time.”

“What?” Geoff cried, his voice cracking. “Oh come on, Jack. How’s this time any different from any other time?”

“Maybe if you’d been arrested for something worth my time, but not for getting picked up for a fucking indecency charge of all things,” Jack said. “Seriously, Geoff? How much did you even have to drink?”

“I didn’t drink that much,” Geoff sighed, rolling his eyes. “I just wanted to freak some people out. It was fucking amazing, too. Now come on, Jack. You can chew me out when we get back home.”

Jack sighed heavily, his breath coming through as a sudden burst of static. “I can, and I will, but I’m not coming to get you today. You can stay in there for a few days.”

“What? You can’t,” Geoff started, trailing off as he caught sight of Burnie’s amused smirk. He scowled and turned to his back was to Burnie, lowering his voice. “You can’t do that, Jack. I’m the fucking boss!”

“Yes, I _can_ do that. I can. I just did. I just grounded you,” Jack insisted, and then the line went dead as he hung up. Geoff pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, shocked. _He_ was in charge of the crew, and the one person he normally got along with perfectly well, the one person who didn’t often go against Geoff’s orders, had just ignored him and hung up on him. He was at a loss for words, short of excessive swearing.

Burnie plucked the phone from Geoff’s hand and hung it up, smiling pleasantly. “That sounded like it went wonderfully,” he said, clapping a hand down on Geoff’s shoulder. “Come on, Ramsey. We need to have a talk.”

Geoff let Burnie lead him through the station, while Geoff started coming up with ways to get back at Jack for this.

 

**Notes (Fake AH Crew):**

~~-~~ ~~Conclusion: Proceed with caution~~

~~-~~ ~~Conclusion: Separate and subdue~~

-          Conclusion: Shoot on sight


	2. Classic Heisting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another headcanon by anarchetypal, because they have a lot of wonderful ones, and it can be found here if you're interested:
> 
> http://anarchetypal.tumblr.com/post/134069710568/the-thing-about-the-achievement-hunter-heist

“Okay, let’s go, guys. And remember, we’re trying to lay low,” Geoff muttered, knowing his voice would carry easily through the coms. Gavin had recently spent some time upgrading the ear pieces and fixing small bugs, like the tendency for there to be severe feedback around helicopters, the inability to work in water, and the fact that Ryan’s had malfunctioned to the point where it was impossible to hear him unless he was practically shouting. But Gavin had assured Geoff they would work perfectly fine, and Geoff was hoping he was right.

While this job probably didn’t involve helicopters or being underwater, Ryan shouting all the time would ruin the idea of laying low.

“Why are we doing this again, Geoff?” Michael asked, and Geoff sighed, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it quickly, throwing it back on the server’s tray and snatching another. They had only just started, and he’d already heard the question about ten different times. It was definitely time for a drink. “We could just break in, blow the safe, and make off with all of it without too much trouble. We broke into the fucking military base!”

"More than once,” Ray added as Geoff downed the other glass, shoving it into someone’s hands as he walked past.

“They’re right, you know,” Ryan said, and it seemed as if Gavin’s tweaks had worked, since it didn’t sound like he was yelling. “This place is a push over comparatively. Why stop the destruction now?”

“Were none of you listening before we got here?” Jack said, and he sounded just as worn down and annoyed as Geoff felt. At least someone shared his pain of having to babysit a handful of fully grown men.

“I was!” Gavin protested loudly and Geoff winced, rubbing at his ear.

“No you weren’t. You were trying to throw bits of paper into Ryan’s soda can,” Michael scoffed and Geoff groaned, moving to the edge of the room and trying to hide the fact that he seemed to be talking to himself from everyone around.

“Look, guys, we just need to focus for _one night_ ,” Geoff insisted. “It should be pretty easy to get in and out and go home if you all pay attention.”

“I have to agree with Geoff,” Jack added. “We would just attack them outright, but that’s what they’re expecting. They have so many people on the lookout for choppers, or someone running around with a rocket launcher, or the famous Vagabond mask, or anything that screams our crew. This way is a lot easier, since they’re not even paying attention to the guests if they aren’t obviously toting weapons.”

“If there’s no destruction, can I go home?” Ryan asked, and Geoff shook his head slowly, rubbing at his forehead.

“No, Ryan. You’re sticking around, just like all of us. Now let’s just finish this shit so we can fucking leave,” Geoff griped, moving through the crowd to find Jack, so the two of them could monitor what was going on around them.

The crew had pushed their way into a charity gathering that the Corpirate was hosting, as part of his ‘I’m a kind, innocent citizen who only wants the best for the city’ ruse. Getting in hadn’t been difficult. Gavin had gotten them invitations, and like Jack had said, no one had been looking for them to just waltz in in suits and without weapons or, in Ryan’s case, defining face paint.

They had scattered as soon as they had entered, since Jack had suggested that the five of them being seen together (since Gavin was waiting out in his van outside) could draw unwanted attention. They didn’t want to run the risk of being noticed too soon. Geoff could see Ryan lingering near the food and examining the small snacks with a raised eyebrow. It was so strange seeing him without face paint, even though it had happened a few times before. The paint always covered up the stubble on his chin and the thin scars that marred his otherwise nice skin, and he looked so much like a normal person that it was a little eerie.

Michael and Ray were nowhere to be seen, but Geoff caught sight of Jack pretty quickly, on the other side of the room. Jack was dressed in a suit similar to Geoff’s, with a normal tie in place of the bowtie, and he was nodding along politely to a woman in a colorful gown who was chattering at him happily. Geoff was pretty sure she was sustaining a conversation all on her own, since Jack wasn’t even trying to say anything between her rambling sentences.

Jack looked around at Geoff as Geoff approached, and even beneath Jack’s bushy beard, Geoff could tell his smile was a little strained and he very much did not seem to enjoy the position he was in. Geoff laughed to himself, stepping up to Jack’s shoulder and grinning at the woman, cutting over what sounded like an in-depth story about the dogs she had rescued over the years.

“I’m sorry, but I need to borrow him for a moment,” Geoff said, grabbing Jack’s arm, and the woman paused mid-word, looking at them both pitifully. Geoff didn’t wait for an answer, pulling Jack away from the woman, who watched for a second and then turned to talk to someone else close by. “She seemed fun.”

“She’s like a crazy cat lady, but with dogs,” Jack sighed, shaking his head. The two of them moved off to a quieter corner in the next room over, where they might be more likely to hold a conversation without anyone overhearing.

“Jack found a crazy dog lady? I just found a crazy dog,” Ray said.

“A crazy dog?” Ryan asked dryly, and it sounded like his mouth was full when he spoke.

“Some weirdo brought their fucking purse dog, and it flipped its shit when we walked near,” Michael answered. “I just don’t think it liked Ray.”

“What’re you talking about? Dogs love me!” Ray protested. While they argued about who had actually upset the little yappy dog, Geoff pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up an app that Gavin had recently installed. It allowed Geoff to see what Gavin saw on his computers, so he could monitor everything even if he was away from the van. Geoff had expected to see the camera feeds from the cameras that littered the building, but the screen was dark and quiet.

Geoff frowned, listening for a second as Michael and Ray’s accusations for why a dog would get upset at them got more and more ridiculous (“The dog’s probably just racist. It doesn’t like Puerto Ricans.” “Or it got offended by your stupid vibrant tie. You probably blinded it.”), but he didn’t hear Gavin. Which was a little odd, considering the fact that Gavin almost always had something to add, especially in stupid conversations like this one.

“Gavin, why haven’t the security cameras been hacked? What’s going on out there?” Geoff demanded, staring at the blank screen on his phone. If it weren’t for the little banner at the top declaring that he was looking at the camera feeds, Geoff would have assumed his phone had gone to sleep.

“I…may have gotten the slightest bit distracted and crashed the tech van into a parked car?” Gavin answered after a moment, slowly and sheepishly. “I was listening to Michael and Ray and I kind of…forgot to stop.” Now that Geoff was paying more attention, he could faintly hear car alarms ringing through the coms, likely from the car that Gavin had run into.

“Dammit, Gavin! You shouldn’t have been moving the stupid van in the first place. It was fine where it was!” Geoff snapped, and he realized his voice had raised a little more than he’d wanted when people turned to look at him in surprise and confusion. Jack smiled at them and waved as Geoff turned away, muttering to himself about how Gavin’s stupid actions were going to blow it for them.

“But Geoff,” Gavin whined, while Ryan chuckled quietly in the background. “I couldn’t get a good signal way over there! I had to get closer. Their wi-fi is really bad.”

“Just hurry up with the cameras so the rest of us can move, Gavin,” Jack said, more calmly than Geoff thought he could’ve managed.

“Y’know, I’m actually fine with the delay,” Ryan said. “There might not be much action, but at least there’s dinner. You all rushed me out before I could eat earlier.”

“Then you shouldn’t have fallen asleep right before a heist. That’s your own fault,” Geoff snorted, as his phone screen flickered to life, small images from the cameras appearing abruptly. “ _Thank you_ , Gavin.”

Gavin said something in reply that Geoff wasn’t really paying attention to (it sounded like he was pouting, and Geoff decided he didn’t want to deal with comforting an overgrown child whose feelings had been hurt), and instead Geoff surveyed the camera feeds. Only one was up on his phone, but if he swiped one way or another, he could shift to another screen and see what was going on.

The room they were looking for was on the other side of the west ballroom, which was one of the most crowded rooms in the mansion at the moment. The room that the Corpirate had converted into a huge ass safe was mostly empty, except for two guards stationed outside, and there were no cameras that showed directly into the room itself.

“Okay, Michael, Ray, I need you two to cause a distraction in the west ballroom. Get everyone focused on something else for a bit. Ryan, make sure that the two guards at the door aren’t paying attention to the safe room so Jack and I can get in there,” Geoff ordered. He could see his team on the cameras as he cycled through, and he only noted what they were doing briefly while he kept his eye on the guards positioned at strategic, and sometimes cleverly hidden, points in the various rooms.

Michael and Ray, both of them dressed in rather brightly colored suits that already stood out among most of the black and grey ones, had started moving toward the west ballroom, as did Ryan. Geoff briefly caught sight of Gavin’s van, now parked a few spaces away from the dinged up sedan whose lights and alarm were going off steadily from the collision. Jack watched Geoff cycle through the images over his shoulder, and occasionally Jack briefly greeted someone who wandered past. Geoff just ignored the people who were actually there for the charity function, not really caring if he was coming across as rude. He had a heist to organize – he didn’t have time to talk to people about whatever popped into their head.

It was mostly quiet for a little bit, except for the occasional snippets of conversation Geoff zoned in on amongst the rest of his crew. Gavin was humming to himself, a little out of tune, and Michael and Ray were planning what they were doing amongst themselves.

Except for the arguments, stupid conversations, and the crashing of the tech van (all of which were normally things that happened on their usual heists, to be honest), Geoff thought they might actually be able to pull this one off.

At least, until an explosion boomed out from the west ballroom, small enough to just barely rattle glasses in a server’s hand, but loud enough that it was clear no one missed it.

“What was that?!” Geoff demanded, having to shout over the frenzied shouts and surprised screams coming from everyone around him. “What the fuck just exploded in the west ballroom?!”

Michael was laughing lightly, and it sounded like he was trying to suppress it with minimal success, when he said, “You told me to make a distraction!”

“With your _mouth_. By _talking_ to people,” Geoff said, his voice strained as he tried not to scream at the explosives expert.

“Oh…” Michael said slowly. “Okay, gotcha. Hey, everybody! There was a huge-ass explosion in the west ballroom! Run or continue running the fuck in the opposite direction!” he hollered at the top of his lungs, and Geoff flinched, covering his ear again. Even though it did nothing to dull the noise, since it was directly in his ear to begin with. “I got this covert shit on lockdown, Geoff.” Geoff sighed heavily, rubbing at at headache growing quickly behind his eyes.

“You know what, screw it. Just make sure we can get in the safe. Jack and I are on our way,” Geoff grumbled, gesturing for Jack to come with him.

Most everyone was evacuating, some considerably calmer than others, and Geoff and Jack were pushing against the flow of nicely dressed charity goers. No one seemed overly inclined to stop them, and the only real problem was weaving their way between everyone without getting an elbow to the gut or being pushed. However, considering what had just happened, people were also pretty quick to clear out of the way.

By the time Jack and Geoff made it to the west ballroom, there was no one else there besides Michael and Ray. The explosion hadn’t done an excessive amount of damage, except to what looked like a chandelier that had once been very nice and expensive. It lay on the ground in pieces, and there was a hole in the ceiling above. Geoff wasn’t entirely sure how Michael had managed the explosion, especially since he had explicitly stated that Michael was to leave all of his explosives at the penthouse, to prevent anything like this from happening.

Both Michael and Ray had a light dusting of plaster on their shoulders and in their hair, likely from the chandelier falling, and Michael was grinning like a lunatic while Ray inspected the crumbling ceiling, one eyebrow raised.

“Why had we never done that before?” Ray asked mildly.

“Guys, the guards got everyone out, but some of them are coming back in. I think they’re going to see what happened,” Gavin said quickly.

“Okay, we need to finish this up quick,” Jack said, moving quickly across the ballroom and to the smaller side room with Geoff close behind. “You two keep the guards distracted _without_ explosions while we work. We’re clear, right, Ryan?”

The two of them stepped through the doorway, and Geoff immediately noticed that Ryan didn’t actually have to answer. “Ryan, where the fuck did all these bodies come from?!” Geoff shouted, stopping mid-step and staring into the room’s entrance. Two of the bodies belonged to the guards that had been monitoring the room, but there were three others that Geoff hadn’t noticed earlier. Blood splattered along the floor and walls, and a couple dark splotches marred Ryan’s white dress shirt.

“Alright, first, I’m a little insulted that you’re accusing me without the slightest bit of evidence,” Ryan stated, adjusting his cuffs and sticking out his lip in a pout. Geoff lifted one eyebrow, looking from Ryan to the five dead bodies at his feet. Ryan just being within a mile of murder was enough proof to know it was him. “But also by now I would have thought you’d realize that these things just sort of seem to happen to me, Geoff.”

Geoff groaned loudly, throwing his hands up and turning on his heel. He stared out into the rubble-strewn ballroom, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised,” he muttered, shaking his head. He could hear Michael and Ray shouting out nonsense to attract the attention of the incoming guards, and Gavin started laughing at whatever he was watching on his monitors.

“We can figure this out later, Geoff. We need to go,” Jack said urgently.

“You guys get it. I’m making sure that nothing else happens that shouldn’t be happening,” Geoff said, waving at Jack and Ryan over his shoulder as he turned back to his phone, keeping an eye on the camera feeds streaming onto the small screen.

Michael and Ray were leading the guards on a merry goose chase through the mansion, and it was almost like watching a cartoon. One of them would pop up, draw the guards’ attention and have them running in one direction when the other would come up out of the woodwork somewhere else and pull them that way. It reminded Geoff of old Scooby Doo episodes, except he actually knew how Michael and Ray were getting from point A to point B.

Behind Geoff, Ryan and Jack had broken into the safe room (which involved a gunshot from a gun that Geoff both hadn’t known about and also wasn’t surprised to hear), and they were working on cleaning on the safe as much as they could between the two of them.

“Alright, we’re good, Geoff. We should leave,” Jack said, and Geoff glanced at them over his shoulder. Jack had procured a duffel bag from his slightly too big suit jacket, and it was currently bulging and slung over his shoulder. Ryan’s pockets were bulging and he held a smaller bag in one hand, a pistol in the other.

“Great. Gavin, scrub the footage quick as you can. There should be no trace of us being here,” Geoff said, leading the way out of the room. “At least, no actual real proof that it was us. Michael, Ray, lose your new friends. We’re meeting up at the van. And Jack? Remind me to never do this kind of shit again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have quite a few different headcanons saved on my blog that I can work with next, but if there's on in particular you'd like me to write next, let me know! Either throw it in a comment or shoot me a message on Tumblr (my URL is achievementtooth), and I'll see what I can do!


End file.
